


𝐃𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬

by sugarc0ma



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Arranged Marriage, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Death Eaters, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Forced Marriage, Gryffindor/Slytherin Inter-House Relationships, Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, Hurt/Comfort, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Pureblood Politics (Harry Potter), Pureblood Society (Harry Potter), Slow Burn, can’t forget the badass slytherin friend group either, fred weasley and violet adair despise each other yet they can’t stop talking about one another, fred weasley has good music taste, marauders references because i’m soft for them, plus a healthy dose of 90s pop culture, to the point where it’s a running joke between their respective friend groups
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:20:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29379825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarc0ma/pseuds/sugarc0ma
Summary: What happens when hating somebody with a passion becomes another type of passion entirely?Violet Adair is the embodiment of everything that Fred Weasley hates; a rich, pureblooded Slytherin from a family of ex-Death Eaters. The feeling is mutual- every interaction between them is laced with insults and sharp words. To Fred, Violet is just a stuck up princess with a serious attitude problem, and he decides that she seriously needs bringing back down to Earth.As their arguments grown in intensity, Fred realises that maybe he isn't just doing it to annoy her, after all. That maybe, all he's ever really wanted is her attention. And Violet begins to wonder why Fred Weasley doesn't seem to disgust her  quite as much as he used to.But there's a darkness looming over the wizarding world, and when Violet finds herself unwittingly swept into the middle of it, it threatens to bring everything crashing down.(Goblet of Fire onwards)
Relationships: Fred Weasley/Original Female Character(s), Seamus Finnigan/Dean Thomas, Theodore Nott/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 19





	1. Spliffs and Champagne

_I'm not like them but I can pretend_

_The sun is gone but I have a light_

_The day is done but I'm having fun_

_I think I'm dumb or maybe I'm just happy_

_I think I'm just happy_

_I think I'm just happy_

_I think I'm just happy_

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

‘Merlin, what a fucking _bore_ that dinner was.’ Groans Blaise as they make their way out onto the balcony. ‘No offence, Violet.’

‘I second that. Violet, is your mother a sadist or does she genuinely enjoy talking about her Gardenia flowers that much?’ says Pansy, rubbing her back and wincing.

Violet grins. ‘Don’t disrespect the Gardenias, guys. They were what got you out of there- I told my mother that you were desperate to see them for yourselves as an excuse for us to come out here.’

She can’t help but agree with her friends, though- the dinner was excruciatingly dull. Her parents’ annual get together for their wealthy and well-connected friends, hosted in their manor house, is an event she dreads each summer. After all, it is essentially the same every year- four hours of making polite conversation and smiling until her jaw aches from the strain.

‘Don’t worry, I brought some of that muggle herb I was telling you about.’ Says Daphne, producing a small bag from within the folds of her dress. ‘I haven’t managed to try it yet, what with Astoria hanging around me all the time. Little snitch.’

Draco snatches it from her hands. ‘I’ll roll it. Me and Theo tried some at the World Cup while my father was with the Minister up in his box. We’d been invited by him personally, you see-’

‘Do you _ever_ stop bragging?’ Says Violet, rolling her eyes. Draco can be good fun at parties, but if there is ever an opportunity for rubbing his privilege in your face, you can bet he’ll be taking it.

‘I’ll bet he’s compensating for something.’ smirks Daphne. ‘How about we ask Pansy?’

A deep blush creeps into Pansy’s cheeks. ‘Shut up!’

Draco takes a deep inhale from the joint, glowering at Daphne before passing it to Blaise. ‘Just because you can’t get any action, Greengrass. Speaking of which, Blaise, are you and Theo still planning on holding that ridiculous challenge this year?’

‘Of course.’ says Blaise, a sense of misplaced pride in his voice as he turns to Violet. ‘Want to help me earn my first point, Adair? Get it? Because to earn a point, you have to shag-’

‘Of course I get it, Zabini. You, on the other hand, are _not_ going to get it.’ There is a chorus of laughter, and she plucks the joint out of his hand.

‘I was joking- don’t look at me like that, Daphne- anyway, uh, Draco. You were at the World Cup, right? What the hell happened?’

Violet’s stomach does an unpleasant somersault. Like many people, she has seen the articles in the Prophet, topped by huge photos of the Dark Mark hanging suspended in the sky. It’s a symbol that is all too familiar to her, having grown up seeing it carved on both parents’ arms.

Draco’s mood, however, seems to lift almost instantaneously. ‘Oh, it was pretty good. Didn’t get anywhere near the action, though, which was a shame. Me and Theo rather fancied a game of flip the muggle.’

‘That’s too bad, man. Was it really, well… you know… _them?’_ Blaise’s voice lowers to a whisper, which is rather absurd. Out here, the only company they have is the rolling hills of the Cumbrian countryside.

Draco snickers and taps the side of his nose knowingly. ‘Can’t tell you that, I’m afraid.. But let’s just say this; things are going to be changing around here pretty soon.’

He has no idea.


	2. A Conflict at King's Cross

_And the sky was made of amyethyst_

_And all the stars looked just like little fish_

_You should learn when to go_

_You should learn how to say 'NO!'_

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

The Adair family have a strange power over those less influential than they are. After all, they make a rather formidable sight; the three of them are tall and dark haired, with Violet and her mother sharing the same blue eyes, high cheekbones and air of effortless elegance. Her father strides ahead of them as they enter the station, his refined features arranged into a mask of calm indifference.

The bustling crowd at Platform 9 and ¾ seem to part involuntarily to make way for them. All, that is, except for one Neville Longbottom. He stumbles straight into Violet’s path, causing her to trip and grab onto her mother’s arm to keep herself upright.

‘Trevor?’ he calls, wringing his hands and casting anxious glances around. ‘Trevor? Please don’t be lost _again_ \- oh, sorry Violet-’

‘You hapless _fool!’_ she snarls, smoothing down her crumpled robes with her hands. ‘Perhaps that toad finally got sick of you and ran away. I wouldn’t blame him.’ He scurries off, and she lets out a snort of disgust. Neville has always irritated Violet somewhat, although she can’t help but feel a little sorry for him. After all, it must be somewhat disheartening to fail miserably at everything you attempt.

The family come to a stop in front of the gleaming scarlet steam engine, and Violet’s mother immediately begins fussing over her daughter, tugging at her robes and smoothing down her hair.

‘Will you stand up _straight_!’ she says exasperatedly ‘You’re representing this family. No silliness this year, understood?’

Violet barely registers her words. She’s scanning the crowd, searching for a familiar face. A grin spreads over her face as she spots Daphne’s head of white-blonde hair bobbing through the swarm of people towards her. She’s about to make her way over when her father grips her shoulder.

‘You know that we’ll be making arrangements for your future in the next few months.’ his voice lowers. ‘We’ll discuss it when you return home for Christmas. Of course, there’s also the matter of the betrothal...’

Violet nods, sighing inwardly. There is nothing to discuss- her life has been mapped out from the moment of her birth: _School. Ministry. Marriage._ It isn’t as if her opinion on the matter would change anything. Her parents have been desperate for her to secure a marriage into a respectable family for years now, and all she can hope is that they’ll let her have some input on which family this is. She tries not to think about the fact that she overheard them discussing Marcus Flint as a possible match a few weeks ago. He’s the worst kind of Slytherin there is- arrogant, obnoxious and a notorious creep. Surely they have more respect for their own daughter than that?

She gives her mother a hasty embrace and rushes over to meet Daphne, who wraps her in a rib-crushing hug and immediately begins jabbering at 100 miles an hour.

‘I haven’t seen you since the dinner party!’ she says, as if it wasn’t less than three weeks ago. ‘How was the rest of your summer?’

‘Yeah, Adair, did you have a good summer?’ snickers a voice from behind her, and Violet’s mood sours almost instantly. Her mouth curls into a scowl as she turns to see Fred and George Weasley, closely followed by Harry, Ron and Hermione.

Oh, brilliant. The Weasley twins. The two biggest pains in her ass since first year.

Her scowl becomes closer to a grimace. ‘And why do you care, Fred Weasley? Want to know what summer is like when your family has two sickles to rub together? Stayed in your shack the whole time, did we?’

She smirks at the sight of George’s fists clenching from beside his twin. Oh, how she’d love for him to attack her so she’d have an excuse to hex them both. Fred only looks at her with an amused expression playing on his features.

‘Oh no.’ he says, leaning against his trolley lazily. ‘We went to the Quidditch World Cup, actually.’

‘How lovely for you.’ Violet’s tone is biting. Daphne hastily muffles her giggle with a cough.

‘Not really. There was an attack, didn’t you hear? Death Eaters, apparently. Nasty stuff. Did your parents have fun running around in masks and pointy hats, Adair?’

‘Shut your mouth, Weasley. You know nothing about me or my family.’

‘I know enough. Hard to ignore that great big tattoo on both of their arms, really.’

Violet is shaking with anger now. Her fingers curl around her wand. ‘I said, Weasley, _shut your mouth.’_

Potter and his friends are beginning to look visibly uncomfortable, seemingly realising that Fred has gone too far, but he’s on a roll now, backed up by his moronic twin.

He steps closer. At almost five foot ten, Violet is tall, but he still stands several inches above her. ‘What are you going to do, Adair?’ he drawls. ‘Hex me like you did Seamus last year?’

Violet folds her arms and tilts her chin up. ‘He shouldn’t have blown up my cauldron in potions.’

‘You’re a bitch. You know that, right?’

She laughs humorlessly. ‘Is that the best you can do? Now, do me a favour and shut the fuck up.’

‘Make me, Slytherin princess-’

‘Is there a problem here?’ Pansy appears between Violet and Daphne, regarding Fred with a contemptuous look.

‘None at all, just Weasley being a prick. Let’s get on the train.’ And with that, Violet smiles sweetly and grabs her friends by the hands to drag them after her.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The three of them have only been on the train a few minutes when Draco, Blaise and Theo join them in their compartment.

‘Merlin, back to Hogwarts for _another_ year.’ Snorts Draco in disgust, flopping down onto a seat beside Pansy. ‘If it wasn’t for the tournament taking place this year, I’d be demanding my father let me transfer.’

Violet raises a brow quizzically. ‘What tournament?’

‘You’re telling me that you seriously didn’t know?’ he looks around the carriage. ‘None of you? Oh, I suppose my father _is_ the closest to Cornelius Fudge out of all of our parents-’

‘Yeah. yeah, get to the point.’ mutters Theo.

‘-I’m referring, of course, to the Triwizard Tournament.’

‘No bloody way!’ breathes Blaise, and Violet is equally as shocked. The Triwizard Tournament is the stuff of legend, but also infamous for its high death toll over the last few centuries.

‘Oh, come off it. Dumbledore would never allow it.’ Daphne says, and Draco rolls his eyes.

‘Just wait and see. The old man’ll probably announce it tonight, and the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October, according to my father. He actually considered sending me to Durmstrang, you know. He knows the Headmaster, you see. Well, you know his opinion of Dumbledore- the man’s such a Mudblood-lover- and Durmstrang doesn’t admit that sort of riffraff. They actually teach their students the Dark Arts, none of that defence rubbish we do.’

There’s a short silence while the group mull his words over, one that is quickly broken by Theo.

‘So, d’you think you’ll enter?’ he asks.

‘No way.’ snorts Violet. ‘That tournament has Gryffindor written all over it. You know, all of that _Home of the brave_ bullshit.’ Daphne nods in agreement.

‘I for one, am definitely going for it.’ says Draco smugly, leaning back and placing his feet up on the compartment table. Pansy begins to simper over him, stroking his hair reverently and praising him for his bravery. Daphne mimes vomiting and Violet can’t help but agree- she’s never understood Pansy’s feelings for Draco. The boy is far too narcissistic to ever actually care about her.

‘Speaking of Gryffindors, Violet, what happened with you and Weasley earlier?’ says Theo.

‘Just the usual. He called me a bitch, I threatened to hex him. Merlin, I can’t _stand_ him.’

‘Oh yeah, I obsess and talk about people who I can’t stand all the time too.’ Daphne interjects sarcastically.

Violet prickles. ‘What’s that supposed to mean? And anyway, I do _not_ talk about him all the time.’

‘You kind of do. Besides, he’s not exactly bad looking.’

‘Daphne, I love you, but if you don’t shut up, this suitcase _will_ become a deadly weapon.’

‘Okay, okay, point taken.’ Daphne giggles. ‘Are we still on for that party in the dungeons tonight?’

‘Do you even need to ask?’ Violet wouldn’t miss it for the world. The party has been a Slytherin tradition practically since the dawn of time- one last blow out before the beginning of the school year, filled with loud music, drugs and hormones running wild. As fourth years, this will be their first year of being allowed to partake rather than having to listen to wild stories over breakfast from the older students the morning after.

Draco pushes Pansy off of his lap and leans forward. ‘This year’s going to be the best one yet, I’m telling you. Anyway, I’m bored. I’m off to go and pay Potter a visit.’

The others watch him leave with a sense of amusement.

‘For somebody who hates Potter so much, that boy seeks him out a lot.’ says Blaise, and the group burst into laughter.

Daphne pipes up ‘Yeah. In fact, Violet, it’s kind of like you with Weas- OW! What was that for?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everybody who read/ left kudos on my last chapter! As promised, this one is much longer. I know I said I’d be updating twice a week but I have no life so here I am again lol. Hope you enjoyed this one as much as I enjoyed writing it. Also, I forgot to mention in the last chapter- the lyrics at the beginning are taken from the song 'Dumb' by Nirvana. The lyrics for the opening of this chapter are from 'Violet' by Hole. Both brilliant songs by two of my favourite bands- I'd highly recommend giving them a listen. XOXO sugarc0ma


	3. Down in the Dungeons

_I am the girl you know, can't look you in the eye_

_I am the girl you know, so sick I cannot try_

_And I am the one you want, can't look you in the eye_

_I am the girl, you know I lie, I lie and lie_

_I'm miss world, somebody kill me_

_Kill me pills_

_No one cares, my friends_

_My friend_

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

‘Guys, be honest… do you think this dress makes me look fat?’ asks Pansy, running her fingers through her damp hair with an exasperated sigh.

Violet leans towards the mirror, pencilling eyeliner into her waterline with the kind of precision that has served her so well on the Quidditch pitch these last few years.

‘You look fabulous, Pans’ she says sincerely. ‘ _Please_ don’t tell me this is about Draco again.’

‘Well, maybe, but-’

‘No buts!’ pipes up Daphne from the bed, where she is using her wand to straighten every last strand of her blonde hair. ‘The boy’s a dickhead and you know it.’

‘You don’t get it.’ there are tears in Pansy’s eyes. ‘He can be so sweet when we’re alone..’

‘You deserve better and you know it.’ Violet stalks over and fiercely wraps her arms around her friend. Daphne quickly follows suit and the three girls collapse back onto the bed in a tangle of limbs, giggling.

Pansy wipes her eyes and gives them a watery smile. ‘You’re right. I know you are. I’ll stay away from him, I swear. Don’t suppose you’ve got any more of that muggle herb, Daphne?’

‘I thought you’d never ask.’ Daphne rootles around in her trunk and triumphantly pulls out another bag of weed.

The trio pass a joint around as they add the finishing touches to their makeup, giggling and gossiping in a haze of pungent smoke. Violet closes her eyes for a moment and allows the effects of the herb to wash over her, softening her senses and slowing her thoughts. When she opens them again, Pansy and Daphne are standing by the door.

‘Ready to go?’ they ask, and she nods, clambering up to join them.

Their sound of their heels against the stone steps of the dungeons echoes throughout the silent Slytherin quarters as they make their way up into the corridor that leads them to the common room. There’s a sense of anxious excitement crackling through the air between them- after all, this party is one of the biggest events of the year.

They come to a halt before the great oak door and Violet places her hand on the doorknob, exchanging glances with her two friends. ‘Come on, let’s go and get totally, totally _fucked_.’

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The leather couches of the common room have been pushed to the side and stacked haphazardly to clear space for the dozens of students who are now packed into the dungeons, and silver-green banners emblazoned with the house’s signature serpentine crest are strung up from every available surface. The light filtering through the wall-to-floor windows bathes the scene in an eerie green glow. Somebody must have taken the liberty to place a silencing charm on the room, because the music is blaring from an unknown source at deafening volume.

‘Hellloooo ladies!’ yells Theo as they enter, already intoxicated enough to be swaying where he stands. He’s clinging onto a disgruntled looking Draco, who has a joint dangling from his lips. Blaise nods in greeting and hands them a large bottle of firewhiskey.

Pansy takes a large gulp and passes it to Violet, grimacing and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. ‘Be careful, this stuff is _strong_.’

The bottle is passed around the group several times as the volume of their chatter increases and drinks are slopped clumsily onto the flagstones of the dungeon floor. After three shots, Violet is giggling everything Daphne says, funny or not. After five, her head begins to swim. After seven, her vision is becoming unfocused, and she’s finding it increasingly difficult to stay upright. She trips and stumbles as Daphne pulls her into the centre of the room to dance.

There, in the throng of sweating bodies, they jump up and down, singing along to the music and joining in with the chant of: _‘Slytherin! Slytherin! Slytherin!’_ that is being orchestrated by a group of sixth years at the front of the room. Violet’s grin only slips when she spots Marcus Flint ploughing through the crowd towards them.

‘Shit, Daphne!’ she mumbles, trying to duck behind her friend. ‘Hide me!’

Daphne, however, is completely out of it. She gapes at Violet, her eyes bleary. ‘W-what?’

Violet swears under her breath as Marcus reaches them. His eyes are bloodshot, and his gait unsteady. He’s a strong contender for somebody even drunker than Theo is.

‘Great party!’ he yells at the top of his voice, and Violet nods, smiling at him through gritted teeth.

‘Yeah. In fact, I’m just gonna-’ she pulls away and tries to head for the rest of her friends, but her legs collapse beneath her. Marcus hauls her up, the mere sensation of his hand on her back making her recoil in disgust.

‘Oops.’ he says, leering at her in a way that makes vomit rise in her throat. ‘How about a kiss, lovely Violet?’

‘Oh yeah, sure.’ she says, scanning the room desperately for her friends. Daphne has been swallowed by the crowd, and the others are nowhere to be seen. ‘Just close your eyes…’

The moment he does so, she takes the opportunity to dart away, elbowing her way towards the exit and out through the tapestry.

Once she’s safely outside and in the darkness of the empty hallway, Violet sighs and leans against the wall. Her head is spinning as she closes her eyes and wills her stomach to stop churning so unpleasantly. It strikes her now how drunk she truly is- she can only hope that she manages to get through the rest of tonight without a vomiting incident. Her stomach does another flip as the memory of Pansy’s birthday last year resurfaces, when she spent the entire night holding the poor girl’s hair back as she vomited into the communal bathtub.

‘What are you doing lurking out here, Slytherin princess?’

Violet makes no effort to conceal her groan as Fred Weasley emerges from the darkness, firewhiskey in hand. He’s clearly intoxicated too, but somehow carries it off much better.

‘The party was shit.’ she says slowly, her voice catching on the last word.

Fred grins in delight. ‘Oh man, and I thought _I_ was pissed. Just look at you, what a bloody mess.’

‘Shut up.’ she hiccups.

‘So, what _are_ you doing here all alone? Did your friends finally get sick of you?’

‘Like I said, the party was shit.’

‘Should come down to Gryffindor sometime. We _actually_ know how to party.’ he says, holding up the bottle of Firewhiskey.

‘Is that why you’re down here instead, then? And besides, I’d rather pitch myself off of the astronomy tower.’ She pushes off from the wall and stalks away, tripping over her own feet as she does so.

Fred’s laughter follows her all the way down the corridor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for reading another chapter! If only you knew the things I have planned for this fic… XOXO sugarc0ma. P.S. the song at the beginning is ‘Miss World’ by Hole


	4. The Teacup and the Egg

_No more leaning on your shoulder_

_I won't be there, no more bother_

_If you feel you just might want me_

_That's too bad,_

_I'm not that easy_

_The contemplator all those years_

_No you must adhere_

_To your new career of liberation_

_You've been cast all by yourself_

_You're free at last_

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Violet wakes the next morning lying sprawled atop her bed covers, still wearing her dress from the night before. She can vaguely recall ending up back at the Slytherin dorms with Pansy, Blaise and Daphne for another round of drinks before heading to bed, and the sensation of the light hitting her eyes as she opens them makes her bitterly regret it.

Daphne is standing above her, looking decidedly worse for wear. Her hair is sticking up in every direction, with glittery green eyeshadow strewn across her left cheek.

‘Get up, waster. Breakfast is in fifteen minutes.’ she yawns, turning away to go and rouse Pansy.

Violet rolls off of the bed and groans, her head pounding as if a gong in her skull is being hit over and over. She stumbles into the shared bathroom and brushes her teeth to rid the stale taste from her mouth before changing into a fresh set of robes. Her hair is a tangled mess, so she simply sweeps it off of her face and into a ponytail before meeting her friends back in the dorm to head down to breakfast.

The atmosphere at the Slytherin table is unusually subdued when they reach the Great Hall, and it seems as if half of their house is too hungover to turn up at all. Unsurprisingly, Theo’s seat is empty, as is Blaise’s. Draco is sitting alone, his bleach blonde hair slightly mussed up and his eyes rimmed with red. He mumbles a half-hearted greeting to the girls as they sit down before turning his attention back to the plate of bacon and eggs in front of him.

Pansy wrinkles her nose at the smell of the food, and Violet has a hazy memory of hearing her retching into the toilet bowl at some point during the early hours of the morning. Daphne, however, has no such issue, and immediately piles her plate high with slice after slice of buttered toast.

‘So.’ she says, her mouth full of food. ‘Wild night, huh?’

Violet winces, massaging the back of her head. ‘I’ll say. Don’t actually remember a lot of it, though.’

‘Me neither.’ says Pansy. ‘I think I might have kissed Blaise, but I’m pretty sure it was on a dare. And Violet, I seem to remember you putting on a strip show of sorts back in our dorm?’

‘I did _what?’_

‘Only to your underwear, don’t worry. And besides, there were only, like, four of us there at the time..’

But Violet isn’t listening. Her attention is now focused on the Weasley twins, and their idiotic friend Lee Jordan. The three of them are huddled over at the Gryffindor table, snickering in the Slytherins’ direction. She notices with a twinge of jealousy that Fred seems to have shaken off his hangover completely. He’s bright-eyed and attentive, looking distinctively unrumpled. Looking at him now, you’d never know that he attended a party last night at all.

Just then, he catches her staring and flips her off. Violet returns the gesture and turns back to her breakfast, muttering darkly to herself. Home of the brave? More like home of the _brainless._

‘Hellooo, Earth to Violet?’ Daphne waves a hand in front of her face. ‘Old Mcgonagall handed out our timetables while you were busy mooning over Weasley again. Can you believe that we’ve got Transfiguration with the Gryffindors first thing?’

Violet snatches up her timetable, her heart sinking. There it is, printed in bold: _Transfiguration/ Gryffindor + Slytherin/ 8:00-9:00._

Just her luck- her least favourite lesson, made even worse by the company of her least favourite house.

‘Merlin, I think I’ll have to Avada Kedavra myself if I’m paired with Longbottom again.’ says Pansy unkindly. ‘We worked on that bloody toad for six hours straight and our pincushion _still_ had webbed feet and a tongue by the time we handed it in.’

‘What else do you expect from a house that values bravery over brains? Not that Longbottom has either.’ snorts Daphne. ‘I mean- just _look_ at them.’

The three of them turn in unison to the Gryffindor table, where Lee, Fred and George are now engaged in a food fight. Violet mutters an incantation under her breath and watches in amusement as the food they’re flinging at one another does a U-turn and pelts each of them with their own breakfasts. Perhaps today won't be so bad, after all. 

Her good mood evaporates almost the moment she enters the Transfiguration classroom, however. Mcgonagall is notorious for her favouritism toward her former house, and it seems that this year is no different. She looks the other way when Harry, Ron and Hermione crowd into one desk, but when Violet, Daphne and Pansy try to do the same, she clears her throat.

‘Not so fast, Miss Adair. Two to a desk, please! Now, where to sit you…’

The door bursts open and a red-faced Fred enters, closely followed by George and Lee. Violet smirks as she notices the globule of egg still stuck to his cheek. Mcgonngall claps her hands.

‘Mr Weasley, sit yourself beside Miss Adair, please. Make it quick, you’ve already wasted ten minutes of my lesson time with your tardiness.’

Violet’s smirk rapidly becomes a scowl as Fred slides into the seat beside her. She opens her textbook and pointedly ignores him, also tuning out the sound of Lee and George’s laughter from the desk behind. She’s still reading the same passage over and over again when the book is slammed shut with a loud snap.

‘Didn’t you hear? We’ve been given a task to do. We have to turn this.’ Fred slams a china teacup onto the desk. ‘Into a rat.’

She sighs heavily and places the textbook back inside her bag. ‘Okay. Any ideas?’

He simply shoots her one of his infuriating smiles and leans back in his seat, his arms behind his head. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be good at this subject, Adair? Are you telling me that you really need my help?’

‘Are you serious?’

‘Deadly.’ and with that, he turns to his friends.

Violet rolls her eyes. ‘Merlin knows it’ll be better without your participation anyway.’ and she sets to work on the teacup, vaguely aware of the three boys sniggering just behind her.

‘Look at it this way, mate.’ Lee is saying. ‘She’s good at Transfiguarion, at least she’ll get you a decent grade. I’m stuck back here with George, and he’s bloody hopeless. Don’t you remember the snake incident from last year?’

‘Hey, that was _not_ my fault! How was I supposed to know that it would come out ten bloody feet long?’

‘Oh yeah, she’ll get me a decent grade if she doesn’t hex me first. Or use some dark magic shit that her Death Eater father showed her.’ Fred mutters darkly.

Violet shoots the three of them a look that would make most people wither on the spot. In fact, Neville Longbottom, who is working several desks away, jumps back and averts his eyes hastily. Instead, all that she’s met with is a chorus of ‘Ooooh!’

‘Pricks.’ she mutters, turning away to continue with her work.

‘Hey, we heard that!’

‘You were supposed to.’

Thirty minutes later, Violet is clutching a large, brown rat and wrinkling her nose in disgust as it squeals pathetically and tries to wriggle out of her grip. Mcgonagall is making her rounds, checking over the class’ work. Daphne and Pansy’s rat still has a handle, while Neville hasn’t even made it that far- his teacup is still just that, only covered in a light fur. Fred pops back up beside Violet as she approaches.

‘Very good, Miss Adair and Mr Weasley. I had a feeling you’d be able to put aside your differences to work together.’ Mcgonagall gives the pair an approving nod as she passes and moves on to examine Lee and George’s rat, which is legless and still paisley-patterned.

Fred turns to her and winks. ‘Cheers, Slytherin Princess. You know, for not ratting me out. Ratted, get it?’

Violet smiles sweetly at him. ‘Oh, I just thought I’d make it up to you for what I did at breakfast.’

The bell rings and students begin to trickle out of the room.

The grin slides off his face. ‘Seriously? That was you? I’d _just_ managed to make Angelina laugh, you know!’

‘My heart positively aches for you.’ she slings her bag over her shoulder and turns to leave.

‘I’ll get you back for that one, Adair.’ Fred’s jaw is clenched now.

‘What are you going to do, Weasley? Put itching powder in my bed again like you did in second year?’

‘If I do, what are _you_ going to do? Set your Death Eater daddy on me?’

Violet laughs humorlessly at the tired insult. ‘You’ll shut up about my family if you know what’s good for you, Weasley.’

She opens the classroom door and steps out into the corridor.

‘You still have egg on your face, by the way!’ she calls back to him before she slams it behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed writing this chapter, so I hope you enjoyed reading it! I can't believe I once thought I'd be busy enough to only update twice a week... anyway, on a lighter note.. I got my first bookmark after I posted the last chapter, which absolutely made my day. Thank you so much! The lyrics at the beginning are taken from 'Happy Now?' by No Doubt. XOXO sugarc0ma


	6. The Betrothal

_Take this pink ribbon off my eyes_  
_I'm exposed and it's no big surprise_  
_Don't you think I know exactly where I stand?_  
_This world is forcing me to hold your hand_

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Violet bursts into her dorm, kicking the door shut behind her hard enough to make the walls shake.

‘He.’ she says, flinging her bag onto her bed and flopping down onto it. ‘Is the world’s biggest _git.’_

Daphne looks up from filing her nails. ‘Weasley again, by any chance?’

‘Ooh, hello Violet! Are you skipping care of magical creatures too?’ asks Pansy, who has just appeared from the bathroom.

‘ _Obviously._ Loony Lovegood let slip that we’re raising Blast-Ended Skrewts this term.’

Daphne snorts in disgust. ‘I don’t know why they let Hagrid teach classes at all. He can hardly tell one end of a broom from another. Not to mention his love of anything that can bite or burn you.’

It’s rather harsh but undeniably a fair point. Violet only bothered to attend three of Hagrid’s lessons last term and emerged from each one bearing a litany of scratches and bruises.

The three of them spend the next hour gossiping with Pansy’s records piping softly in the background before making their way towards Defence Against the Dark Arts. It’s a lesson that the fourth years have been anticipating with a sense of wild excitement- rumours and anecdotes about Mad-Eye Moody’s teaching methods and former career as an Auror have haunted the corridors all day.

‘You know.’ whispers Pansy as they wait outside the classroom. ‘Draco told me that Moody’s completely mental. There was an incident just a week ago with his dustbins. Muggle aurors turned up and had to be obliviated.’

‘I hear he was quite the auror back in the day, though.’ Daphne interjects. ‘Caught a whole load of Death Eaters-’

‘He’ll just _love_ your house then. Did he catch any of your parents?’ Fred Weasley appears between them, as if from thin air. Violet jumps slightly at his sudden interfering presence.

‘Oh, brilliant. I didn’t realise you were still in this class. Didn’t you fail the exam last year? And by fail, I mean write three lines for the foot and a half essay?’ She says, glaring at him.

Fred folds his arms, and flashes her a maddening grin. ‘A low blow, Adair. Nothing I’m not used to from your lot, of course, but-’

_‘My lot?’_

‘Yeah. You know, the future dark wizards..’

‘At least my family doesn't sleep in one room.’

His expression darkens. ‘At least _my_ family aren’t murderers.’

Violet doesn’t even realise that she’s grabbed her wand until it’s out and pointed right at Fred’s temple. ‘You know _nothing_ about me or my family.’

A low laugh. ‘I know enough. You’re all obsessed with blood purity and have a stick up your arses about the fact that You Know Who’s dead-’

‘I’d be careful, Weasley. When the Dark Lord returns, the blood traitors will be the first to go.’

Violet sighs inwardly as Draco joins in. He’s clearly clamoring for a fight after being cooped up in Malfoy Manor most of the summer, and he never tires of it where Weasley is concerned.

Fred’s face darkens further. ‘Is that a threat, Malfoy?’

Their classmates are beginning to pick up on the tension, and there’s now a small crowd gathering around them. Violet lowers her wand a fraction as Fred steps away and the two boys begin to circle each other. She’s less furious now, and more just irritated.

‘What is it with boys and fighting each other?’ she hisses to Daphne, stepping back into the gaggle of students as Malfoy sends a jinx hurtling through the air.

‘I know, right? I’ve told Draco time and time again, it impresses nobody. It’s not going to make his dick any bigger, although I’m sure it could do with it-’

Pansy kicks her in the shin. ‘Hey, that happens to be my _boyfriend_ you’re talking about!’

Violet groans. ‘Seriously, Pans?’

Just then, there’s a collective gasp from the gathered students as Draco’s blasting curse finally hits Fred square in the chest. He flies backwards through the air, crashing full force into a startled Lee Jordan. The two of them crumple to the ground in a tangle of limbs, wincing in pain.

The eruption of laughter that follows quickly dies out when the sound of Moody’s wooden leg on the flagstones begins to echo down the corridor towards them. The small crowd immediately scatters as the ex-Auror lopes into view, leaving Fred and Lee groaning on the floor and Draco standing over them, wand still in hand.

‘What is the meaning of this?’ he growls, and Draco visibly gulps. It’s amusingly clear to Violet that he still hasn’t fully recovered from the ferret incident that Pansy told her about earlier.

Moody points a scarred finger at him. ‘Do I even need to ask if this is your doing, Malfoy?’

Ron pipes up. ‘Yeah, professor! Him and Adair!’

Violet shoots him a look that could curdle milk. ‘I didn’t do shit, Weasley.’

‘Language! Adair, is it?’ Moody’s attention is suddenly on Violet now, and she finds herself inexplicably wilting under the intensity of his gaze. She nods, avoiding eye contact.

‘Ah, yes. I knew your father. Nasty bugger. Anyway- you and Malfoy can join me in detention tomorrow night. Granger, you can take Weasley and his friend to the hospital wing.’

Violet seethes silently throughout the rest of the lesson. She can barely bring herself to pay attention even as Moody demonstrates the three unforgivable curses, focusing instead on an image of Fred Weasley in her mind and imagining the hexes she’d like to inflict on him. Why can’t he simply leave her alone? Surely if he hates her as much as he claims he’d want to interact with her as little as possible?

She’s still in a sour mood the entire walk back to the dungeons, even with Daphne nodding sympathetically at her ranting. It only begins to lift once they’re back in the common room, and squished up on the great green sofas with Pansy, Theo and Blaise. Draco is nowhere to be seen- it seems as if he’s taken the events outside the classroom to heart even worse than she has.

‘He’ll be down in a few hours once he’s stopped sulking.’ says Blaise dismissively, lighting up a joint and passing it to Theo.

Pansy pouts. ‘ _I_ think Weasley got exactly what he deserves. He’s been begging to be put in his place for years.’

‘Yeah, well, of course you would.’

‘I have to agree with Pans on this one.’ says Violet. ‘Weasley’s an insufferable git and always has been. I’d have cursed him myself if Draco didn’t get there first.’

Daphne nudges her with an elbow, rolling her eyes. ‘How angsty. I’m begging you, Vi, please just shag him and get it over and done with.’

‘I’d rather shag Professor Snape.’

Theo’s laugh rapidly becomes a coughing fit as he inhales the smoke the wrong way, and Blaise slaps him on the back.

‘I have to say, sometimes hate sex is the best kind of sex.’ says Pansy with a shrug. ‘I remember once when me and Draco had been arguing and hadn’t spoken in weeks-’

Violet spits out a mouthful of water. ‘Stop right there before you traumatise us, Pans. We do _not_ need to know the details.’

‘She’s right, you know.’ says Blaise with a shudder. ‘Anyway, I’m in the mood for some music. Has anyone got any records? _Not_ you, Pansy, you know I can’t stand the Weird Sisters.’

‘What’s wrong with the Weird Sisters?’

Violet leaves them to their bickering and heads up to the dorm to fetch her records. She’s preoccupied with deciding between Nirvana and No Doubt when a sharp tapping at the window catches her attention. When she looks up, she’s slightly startled to see her family’s eagle owl perched outside, a letter clutched between her talons.

She rushes over and opens the window, snatching the letter and hurriedly grabbing a handful of seed for the owl before peeling off the wax seal and sitting on her bed to read it.

The letter, written in her father’s precise penmanship, reads:

_Dear Violet,_

_We hope you are settling in well to your first term back at Hogwarts and working to the best of your abilities both in lesson and out of it. During our correspondence last week, Professor Mcgonagall informed us that your grades are still up to a very high standard, something we are hopeful that you will be able to maintain throughout the coming year. Do not let the excitement of Dumbledore’s ridiculous tournament distract you from what is most vital- your future._

_As you are likely well aware, things in the wizarding world are beginning to shift, and it’s our priority to ensure that you are on the right side when things are finally restored to the way they should be. For this very reason, we have been working tirelessly in the past few months to secure you a suitable husband to enter the world with upon your graduation from Hogwarts. We believe that we have found this match in Marcus Flint, whom we assume you are already acquainted with due to the relationship our two great families have shared for decades. After a long discussion with Mr Flint’s parents, the contract has been signed and you may now officially consider yourself betrothed- that means no silly schoolyard romances._

_I spoke to Marcus briefly by Floo powder and it seems that he is a delightful and well-rounded young man, suitable to give you the future you were born for. To celebrate the union, we will be hosting a dinner in the company of the Flint family at the end of this month, and we of course expect you to attend._

_Once again, stay focused and remember our family motto- Loyal au mort._

_Best regards, Markus and Anastasia Adair_

The formality of the letter’s tone would’ve normally had Violet raising an amused eyebrow, but on this occasion, she is completely lost for words. She stares down at the parchment, as if her gaze can morph the words into something else. Anything else.

She’s known since she was a child that this was coming, and yet she is still shocked by the feeling of betrayal sinking in her gut. The feeling of knowing that she has been sold off like cattle, to possibly the worst man in the entirety of pureblood society, and wasn’t even consulted first.

‘Incendio.’ She whispers, and watches as the letter burns, curling in on itself and finally crumbling into ashes on the green carpet.

She doesn’t even realise that she’s been crying until a single tear slides down her face. Wiping it away hastily, she stalks over to her bed and grabs the Nirvana record before heading back down into the common room and rejoining her friends.

‘She’s finally back!’ yells Blaise, clearly stoned out of his mind. ‘What did you choose?’

Pansy snatches the record. ‘Ooh, is this that muggle band that you like, Vi? The one with the lead singer called, uh, what’s his name- Kurt Combine?’

‘Kurt _Cobain_ , Pans.’ Corrects Violet, sitting down beside Daphne.

‘Whatever. He looks like he hasn’t had a shower in weeks.’

‘Hey, are you okay?’ whispers Daphne once the others have gone back to their gossip. She’s clearly been the only one to notice her friend’s pale face and red-rimmed eyes.

‘Yeah, fine. Just tired.’ Violet replies, her tongue feeling heavy under the weight of the lie. She can’t face telling her friends, not tonight. It's childish, but she feels that if she says it out loud, it becomes too real. ‘Can you pass me the joint?’

She inhales the sweet smoke until the letter, and its contents, and Marcus Flint, are wiped from her mind like the sand at high tide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading another chapter! I’m sorry there was such a big gap between this one and the last. It’s longer than the first few and took me much longer to write as I’ve been in a bit of a funk these last few weeks. I’ve planned out the next ten or so chapters completely so hopefully I’ll be able to get them out quicker from now on! Also, a quick note for context- in this fic, Violet is in the same year as the Golden Trio. Fred and George, as well as Lee, have been aged down to be in this year too, as I really wanted a few scenes of them in lesson together. I hope this helps :) XOXO Sugarc0ma


	7. The Goblet's Verdict

_Do you have the time to listen to me whine_

_About nothing and everything all at once?_

_I am one of those_

_Melodramatic fools_

_Neurotic to the bone_

_No doubt about it_

_Sometimes I give myself the creeps_

_Sometimes my mind plays tricks on me_

_It all keeps adding up_

_I think I'm cracking up_

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A few weeks later, Violet is still putting her best efforts into pushing the Marcus Flint situation into the back of her mind entirely. Her friends have been too wrapped up in the excitement of the Triwizard tournament to notice her increasingly strange behaviour, which includes taking the most long winded, least direct routes to her lessons and sticking close to them at all times. She’s determined to delay the inevitable conversation with Flint about their betrothal for as long as possible, but she can only avoid him for so long.

He finally corners her in the corridor between Transfiguration and Potions, taking advantage of an unlucky moment during which Daphne is in bed with the flu and Pansy off in some broom cupboard with Draco. One moment, Violet is hurrying along with her head down and a stack of books clutched to her chest, and the next, she’s being bundled into an empty classroom with Flint’s hot breath on the back of her neck.

‘What the fuck?’ she snarls, rounding on him the moment they’re alone. The books drop to the floor, forgotten in the heat of the moment.

He leans against the door, arms folded. ‘You’re going to have to talk to me sometime, you know.’

She scowls. ‘Not if I can help it.’

He stalks towards her and places his hands on her shoulders, his fingers digging into her skin hard enough that she winces. His face is just inches from hers as he hisses into her ear.

‘Don’t take that tone with me. This isn’t some childish _game._ It’s time you grew up and accepted your place.’

‘My _place?’_ her cheeks flame with indignation.

‘Yes, your place. I think we ought to start by establishing some ground rules. First of all, no more gallivanting around with Malfoy and Zabini and your other boyfriends-’

‘They’re my _friends,_ Flint!’

His grip on her tightens. ‘You’re going to be my wife, Violet. I won’t have you showing me up by whoring about in front of the entire school.’

‘Get off me. Now.’ Her fingers close around her wand deep within the fold of her robes. It wouldn’t be ideal to have to hex her husband-to-be within less than a month of their betrothal, but it’s a risk she’s willing to take if necessary.

A low laugh. ‘Seriously? You wouldn’t dare.’

‘Seamus would tell you otherwise.’

‘Is that a threat, Violet? Rather unwise, don’t you think?’

Just then, the classroom door swings open and Violet sags with relief at the sight of Pansy and Draco standing framed in the doorway. Both of them are looking distinctly rumpled, and she notices with a faint sense of disgust that there’s a trail of love bites down her friend’s neck. _Euch._

‘Is he bothering you, Adair?’ asks Draco, fixing Flint with a steely gaze. His hands immediately drop from her shoulders and to his sides.

‘Of course not. Just dishing out some… friendly advice.’ he says coldly, and with that, he sweeps out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

There’s a short pause, before Pansy finally speaks. ‘Do you want to tell us what the bloody hell all that was about?’

Violet sighs heavily. ‘Let’s just skip potions and go back to the dungeons. I’ll explain once we’re there.’

The moment the three of them are back in the common room, she spills everything. At first, she can barely bring herself to say the words without feeling as if she’s choking on them, but by the end it’s as though a great weight has been lifted from her shoulders. When she’s done, Draco has a grave expression etched into his pale features, and Pansy rushes over to embrace her.

‘I’m so, _so_ sorry, Vi.’ she murmurs. ‘I wish you’d felt able to tell us sooner.’

Violet gives her a watery smile. ‘I’m not marrying him, Pans. I don’t know how, yet, but I’ll find a way to get out of it.’

Pansy looks doubtful, but she nods all the same. ‘Yeah. You’re clever, we’ll figure something out.’

‘Perhaps we’ll just have to kill Flint.’ Draco shrugs. ‘Never liked the bastard anyway.’

‘Or maybe you just want the quidditch captain spot.’ Violet jibes, and the tense atmosphere dissipates almost immediately.

‘Coming from you! Don’t pretend you were sorry when Warrington got sent home with spattergriot and you got his chaser spot!’

They’re still teasing each other when Blaise burts in, looking ecstatic.

‘The Weasley twins!’ he pants. ‘They’ve aged themselves up with a potion and they’re planning on trying to enter the Triwizard Tournament!’

Draco leaps up and claps his hands. ‘Oh, this should be good!’

‘What dimwits.’ sneers Pansy as they head out of the dungeons, shaking her head. ‘Do they really think that Dumbledore won’t have thought of that?’

Violet nods in agreement, but there’s a tiny, wicked part of her that hopes Fred manages to dupe the goblet. After all, Dumbledore did mention something about students being injured in previous tournaments, and he’s certainly stupid enough to pull a reckless stunt that gets him hurt. Perhaps he won’t be so insufferable after a humiliating failure in front of the entire school.

It seems that Pansy isn’t alone in having doubts- when they reach the hall, Hermione is lecturing the twins a shrill tone that grates on Violet’s nerves.

‘I’m not sure this is going to work, you know!’ she’s saying, which makes Draco snort.

‘I’ll say, Granger.’ he murmurs with barely disguised glee. ‘Oh, look! They’re about to do it!’

The four Slytherins watch in bemused anticipation as Fred pulls a slip of parchment bearing his full name from the pockets of his robe, and strides over to the edge of the age line. He pauses for a moment, teetering on the edge as if it were that of a great cliff, before he steps right over. There’s a collective gasp from the entire hall, as for a moment it seems as if the foolish plan has worked after all.

George certainly seems to think so, for he lets out a triumphant yell and jumps after his twin. The victory is short lived, however- just a moment later there is a great sizzling sound and both boys are hurled away from the cup by an invisible force. Violet’s laughter only grows when they sprout identical long, white beards.

‘Oh, this is _brilliant.’_ gasps Pansy, tears of hilarity running down her cheeks as the twins get up, groaning and rubbing their backs. ‘This must have bruised Fred’s ego at least a _little_ bit!’

She’s right, of course- despite his joining in with the laughter that is erupting around the hall, Fred’s ego is more than slightly wounded. However, there’s more to it than that. From his angle lying on the floor, there was a moment during which he just couldn’t help but notice how beautiful Violet Adair looks when she’s laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter isn't the best, and I'm sorry about that but I wanted to move the story along as quickly as possible. I have BIG things planned for this fic, and I'm so excited to share them with you guys! Once again, a big THANK YOU- we just hit 150 views and 10 kudos, which I know isn't a huge number but it's amazing to see that people are actually reading and enjoying MY writing? Crazy stuff. Anyway, lyrics at the beginning are from 'Basket Case' by Green Day. XOXO sugarc0ma


	8. Loyal Au Mort

_I'm sorry that I'm getting chubby_

_And I cannot always be happy for you_

_And I am not some lame sorority queen_

_Taking you home to meet my daddy_

_You collect your trust funds baby_

_And I'll be a whore_

_And we'll pretend we're just the same but_

_I know, I know, I know, I know I know that I_

_I am hiding_

_The you I show to you is just a lie_

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The evening of Halloween 1994 is a chilly one, with a distinctly Autumnal scent in the air and thick mist hanging over the Great Lake just as it did when the Dementors were running about the grounds. Violet pulls her fur coat tighter around herself as she makes her way down to the edge of the grounds, feeling rather self-conscious at the looks she’s attracting from her fellow students. In her deep purple gown and silver heels, she sticks out like a sore thumb amongst her friends, who are all bundled up in their robes with scarves and woolly hats. Even so, she feels a warm rush of gratitude towards them for offering to accompany her to the Three Broomsticks to meet Flint and take the Floo network back home for the dinner party.

‘It’s not like Potter’s even that talented, really. Everyone’s just obsessed with him because he’s famous. Famous Harry Potter, with his _scar_ and his _broomstick..’_ Draco pauses for breath before continuing. ‘And now he’s gone and cheated his way into the tournament. If it were anybody else, Dumbledore would’ve never allowed it, but no, just because it’s _Potter-’_

‘I don’t know.’ says Daphne doubtfully. ‘He did look pretty shell-shocked when his name came out of that cup.’

‘Oh, don’t tell me he’s fooled you too now. Soon you’ll be licking his arse like everybody else.’

‘Don’t be dim, Draco.’ Violet interjects. ‘You know none of us can stand the prick. We just haven’t had a personal vendetta against him since first year.’

Blaise and Theo nod in agreement, and Draco’s pale face reddens.

‘Whatever. I’m off to go and find Pansy.’ he mutters, and stalks off into the darkness, back towards the castle.

‘Poor Pans.’ says Theo once his footsteps have receded . ‘If she comes back limping tonight, we’ll know why.’

Blaise shoves him, but he’s snickering. ‘Stop it Theo! I _really_ don’t want to think about that!’ 

'Speaking of limping, these heels kill.’ Violet groans. ‘Why in the name of Merlin’s ballsack did my father have to insist on me arriving in my dress robes rather than just changing once I’m there?’

Daphne links her arm. ‘At least your father doesn’t make you wear a corset. Once I’ve eaten, I just spill over the top and bottom of it in the _most_ disgusting way.’

The four of them walk along in a comfortable silence for a few minutes before the village of Hogsmeade comes into view, looking as picturesque as always. Every light on the high street is on, bathing the scene in a warm orange glow, and people in various states of tipsiness spill out onto the street, laughing and chattering. Violet feels her heart beginning to sink at the thought of spending the evening in the company of her parents and Flint while her friends return to Hogwarts together.

‘Do us a favour and _murder_ me, Daphne.’ she whispers as they approach the inn.

‘Perhaps it won’t be so bad?’ her friend says, in a feeble attempt to make her feel better.

‘Yeah, right.’

As soon as they enter, the group are immediately enveloped by the warmth generated by a roaring fire in the corner. As is usual for an evening like this, the Three Broomsticks is crowded with dozens of witches and wizards- and, bizarrely, what appears to be an ogre. Aside from a group of hags stopping during their game of cards to glare at them, they’re mostly ignored as they elbow their way through the crowd.

Flint is waiting by the bar, wearing a crisp dark suit and an expression that looks as if he’s sucking on a lemon. He looks Violet up and down as she approaches, his eyes lingering just a little too long on her legs before darting to her friends behind her.

‘Any particular reason why you felt the need to bring half of Slytherin house with you?’ he snaps, in a tone that makes a hot flush creep into her cheeks.

She grits her teeth. ‘They offered to accompany me, and I accepted. Is there a problem?’

‘No. None at all.’ He grabs her arm and drags her over to the fireplace, ignoring her attempts to shrug him off.

Violet’s friends watch Flint manhandle her with narrowed eyes, and she could almost swear that she spots Blaise muttering something like ‘What a prick’ as they vanish into a swirl of emerald flames.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Violet’s stomach lurches unpleasantly as they drop into the darkness, watching hundreds of fireplaces shoot past in a sickening blur. She squeezes her eyes shut and doesn’t dare open them again until she’s spewed out of the fireplace in her father’s study.

The way Flint’s manner changes the moment they arrive is at best disconcerting, and at worst slightly disturbing. He’s every part the well-bred gentlemen, helping her up from the floor and shaking her father’s hand as her parents enter. It’s clear that they are completely taken in by the act, but the truth is that it would likely matter little to them to learn of his real nature. As long as he keeps the family name held in high esteem and their daughter in check, he’s an instant winner.

‘Marcus! How _lovely_ to meet you at long last.’ Violet’s mother embraces him stiffly, clearly trying her best to project an image of herself as a warm, loving mother. Her father, however, makes no such effort.

‘Come.’ he says, nodding towards the dining room. ‘We have much to discuss.’

Violet has always disliked the Adair manor. It’s a sprawling monstrosity of Victorian architecture, surrounded by little more than rolling fields and the occasional tiny hamlet nestled between mountains and creeks. The interior is only a fraction less soulless, with dusty portraits of ancestors stretching back centuries adorning the dark panelled walls. They regard her with haughty disapproval as she passes, and she finds herself averting her eyes to the woven tapestry rug below her feet.

They’re taken into the drawing room, where there is already a small table and four chairs set up for their arrival, likely by their house elf, Tonky. Violet’s father lights the fire with a flick of his wand and sits down, motioning for the others to do the same.

‘May I take this moment.’ he says, pouring out a glass of port wine ‘To welcome young Marcus into our home. A pleasure, of course.’

Flint nods. ‘The pleasure is all mine, sir.’

‘We simply cannot express our joy over the union between our two great families.’ her mother adds. ‘A union that will keep us strong in the years to come-’

‘-Which brings us to our topic of discussion. We did not simply call you here at such short notice for a cosy catch up.’ Her father’s tone is grave. ‘I’m sure you have been wondering, for example, why we chose to arrange this betrothal now. After all, the two of you are both still so very young.’

Violet’s heart begins to hammer in her chest. Whatever she’s about to be told, she knows that she isn’t going to like it.

‘Things are changing in the wizarding world, children. And we must prepare for these changes. I’m sure you already know what I am referring to.’

‘The Dark Lord.’ Flint murmurs.

‘Yes.’ he pulls up the sleeve of his robe to reveal the dark mark imprinted on his left forearm. ‘It has been growing clearer, darker, for weeks now. Wherever he is, the Dark Lord grows stronger with each passing day.’

Violet finally speaks. ‘You believe he’s still out there?’

‘I _know_ he’s still out there, Violet. Your mother feels it too. Those with the dark mark, we share a bond with him. Forever and always.’

Flint is staring at the mark intently, a sense of feverish hunger dancing behind his eyes. ‘And when the time comes, we may join him?’

‘Yes.’

There’s a long silence, only broken when Tonky enters, staggering under the weight of a large tray of sandwiches and scones.

‘Sorry these are late, master!’ She squeaks, depositing them onto the table. ‘Tonky is telling the others, we must work faster, but they isn’t listening-’

Violet’s father holds up a hand and the elf goes silent. ‘What have I told you about entering without knocking? You know what to do. Now, leave us- and close the door behind you.’

Tonky’s lip quivers. ‘Yes, master.’ She leaves, and just a moment later the sound of her head hitting the wall repeatedly echoes down the corridor.

The four of them begin to eat, with Violet’s mother keeping up a stream of inane babble to fill the silence.

‘Let’s move onto a more… _appropriate_ topic.’ she says hurriedly, spreading jam onto a scone with careful precision. ‘Marcus, your father tells us that you are captain of the Slytherin quidditch team?’

A smug expression fixes itself onto Flint’s face. ‘Oh, yes. Since fourth year, actually.’

‘So I assume you and Violet are already acquainted from that?’

‘I suppose so, yes.’ This is a stretch of the truth. The two of them barely interact on the pitch, with Violet preferring to stick with Daphne and Flint spending most of his time coaching Crabbe and Goyle in the art of committing fouls without being caught.

‘I always thought quidditch far too rough of a game for a young lady.’ Says Violet’s father. ‘But Anastasia insisted that it would help her make connections.’

Violet would normally bristle at this, but she’s far too wrapped up in her own thoughts. _Her parents, death eaters. Again._ Of course, she never truly bought their story about having acted on the Dark Lord’s orders under the Imperius Curse, but it’s jarring to know that the passage of thirteen years has done nothing to sway their loyalty. And that, if- or, indeed, when- he rises again, they expect her to join the ranks.

She stays almost entirely silent throughout the rest of the dinner, but her father hardly seems to notice as he pours glass after glass of port and prattles on about his job at the ministry to Flint. Her mother, however, regards her cooly across the table, her lips a thin line of distaste. When the evening draws to a close and Violet is standing at the fireplace ready to return to Hogsmeade, she draws her close, gripping her forearms tight enough to bruise.

‘Remember, Violet. _Loyal au mort.’_ she whispers.

And as she’s once again swallowed by the green flames, it occurs to Violet that the family motto she’s held close for so many years is beginning to sound much more like a threat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anybody wondering, 'Loyal au mort' translates to 'loyal unto death.' I thought it rather fitting for a pureblood family like the Adairs. Anyway, thank you for reading yet another chapter- seriously, you guys are the best! I think this one may be my favourite so far.. XOXO sugarc0ma. P.S. lyrics at the beginning are taken from the song 'DemiRep' by Bikini Kill. A great song by a great band :)


	9. The Bridges We Build

_He said, I'm your lover, I'm your friend_

_I'm purity, hit me again_

_With a bullet, number one_

_Kill the family, save the son_

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

‘Bloody hell, is Sprout trying to kill us with these things?’ says Theo, disentangling himself from the writhing tendrils of the Venomous Tentecula in front of him with great difficulty.

Violet snips off a branch and curses as one of the plant’s spines catches her in the finger. ‘Wouldn’t put it past her. She’s the head of Hufflepuff, isn’t she?’

None of the others bothered to turn up for today’s Herbology lesson, and so the two of them are tackling the task alone, ducking every few moments to avoid being strangled by a stray vine. From the colourful language and annoyed huffs coming from their classmates, it seems as though they aren’t the only ones having trouble. Across the greenhouse, Padma Patil is wrestling with her plant as it attempts to yank the bangles from her wrist.

‘So, uh, have you heard about the..’ Theo cuts off his own words as he hurriedly snatches his hand away from a particularly vicious vine ‘... Yule Ball?’

‘Oh, I think I heard old Mcgonagall mention something about it.’ says Violet, pulling the plant off her before it can snake around her neck. ‘I wasn’t really listening though. I’ve been a bit... preoccupied lately.’

This is an understatement, to say the very least. Ever since the dinner at her parents’, she has been finding herself drifting off into thought during lessons with increasing regularity. When she’s sneaking down to the kitchens with Blaise, or gossiping with Pansy, she can push the whole thing to the back of her mind, but during a tedious lecture about the giant wars from Professor Binns or a long theory lesson with Snape, dark thoughts bubble to the surface and there’s little she can do to stop them.

‘... So do you want to?’ Theo’s voice interrupts her train of thought.

‘Want to what?’ ‘Go to the Yule Ball? With me? As friends of course- it’s just, well, Draco’s already asked Pansy and Blaise said he was asking either you or Daphne and we thought maybe all of us could go together.’

Violet grins at him. ‘Yeah sure, I- _ouch!’_

A Tentecula branch catches in her hair, almost ripping it from her scalp.

‘Relashio!’ she gasps, jabbing it with her wand, and the plant releases her.

‘So, just to check… that _was_ a yes, right?’ Theo scratches the back of his neck, a faint flush creeping into his cheeks.

Violet laughs. _‘Yes,_ Theo.’

His shoulders sag in relief. ‘Oh, wow, well- great. I thought maybe you’d be going with Flint and I'd be the one turning without a date.’

‘Seriously? I’d rather go with- with- _Fred Weasley_ than him.’

They work side by side for the rest of the hour, too caught up in what they’re doing to hold much of a conversation. Theo doesn’t seem to realise that Violet notices the glances he steals at her when he thinks she’s not looking, and as they leave the greenhouse she finds herself still smiling foolishly.

The smile freezes and slides off her face the moment she spots Flint, waiting for her just outside the door. He holds out a hand. ‘Care to join me for a walk?’

Theo looks as if he’s about to open his mouth to speak, but Violet shoots him a warning glance.

‘I’ll be fine.’ she murmurs as she passes him and takes Flint’s outstretched hand. He watches them go wordlessly, shooting daggers at the older boy.

It’s a bleak day in Scotland, with swollen clouds hanging languidly in the grey sky and an icy wind that knifes Violet’s face as they walk down the path towards the edge of the forbidden forest. Flint strides ahead, his hand gripping hers as if he thinks she’ll make a break for freedom- which, to be fair, is what she’s half considering doing.

‘Something tells me you haven’t really brought me for a leisurely stroll of the grounds.’ she says after a few minutes.

Flint snorts. ‘Nothing gets past you, does it? No, I don’t suppose I have...’

They come to a stop by a deserted patch of trees. Violet is suddenly very aware of the fact that if anything were to happen, there would be nobody around to hear. Her hands itch to grab her wand.

‘...I received a parcel from your mother this morning.’ he continues, producing a velvet box from his robes. ‘She wants us to wear these from now on.’

Stowed inside is exactly what Violet has been fearing; a pair of silver signet rings, simple in design and inscribed with the Adair crest. They’re a family heirloom, given to any newly betrothed couple to wear until the engagement ceremony. It’s supposed to be symbolic of welcoming a new member into the fold, but far too often, the couple hail from the same family anyway. Perhaps she should count her blessings- as much as Marcus Flint disgusts her, he is not, to her knowledge, a cousin or nephew of any shape or form.

She takes one, barely disguising the disrelish on her face as she slides it onto her finger. Almost immediately, it shrinks in size to accommodate her measurements, to the point where it’s slightly uncomfortable.

‘Don’t look so miserable, sweetheart,’ says Flint, cheerfully slipping his own ring on. ‘This means we’re officially betrothed now.’

The gentleman her parents met is nowhere to be seen, and in his place is the version of him Violet has always known; the repulsive creep who accosted her at the Slytherin party.

‘Brilliant.’ she says, fixing a disingenuous smile onto her face. ‘I suppose I’d better go to Charms now. Wouldn’t want to be late.’

‘Since when have you cared about being late? Skip Charms and we can finally spend some quality time together. You know, like a couple should.’

‘And I suppose your idea of quality couple time involves an empty classroom and a _muffliato_ spell?’

‘Maybe, maybe. Although, why use an empty classroom while we have a whole forest at our disposal? Waste not, want not, lovely Violet.’

He closes the gap between them, his hands sliding to her waist.

Violet plants her hands on his chest and shoves him away. ‘Get off me before you make me do something I’ll regret.’

‘We’ll be doing all of this and more once we’re married. Why not start now?’ He pays her threat no heed. ‘And besides, do you _really_ think I’d let a fourth year hex me? I’d have you on the ground before you could raise your wand.’

‘Your ‘Poor’ in Defence says otherwise.’

‘Don’t speak to me like that, you-’

‘Violet? Violet? Honestly, will you _stop_ canoodling and come with me now! For Merlin’s sake, I’m not going to charms alone again.’ an indignant voice rings out from behind them, and Flint stiffens.

When Violet turns to see who the voice belongs to, she decides that she must have finally lost the plot, for surely Hermione Granger isn’t actually standing there, hands on hips and speaking to her as if they’re old friends and their houses haven’t been rivals for a millenia.

‘I didn’t know you were matey with that _mudblood.’_ Flint spits the words as if they’re venomous. ‘I’m off. Wouldn’t want to keep you from your _Charms lesson.’_

He stalks away, and Violet can only stare at Hermione in bewilderment. There’s a pause before she begins to laugh nervously.

‘I’m so sorry for intruding.’ she says. ‘I was just walking by and I heard you two talking and you sounded uncomfortable and I just thought I should-’

‘No, no- I mean- that was- well, thank you. But I just don’t understand... I thought you hated me.’

‘I don’t hate you!’ Hermione sounds rather affronted. ‘We don’t even know each other. Not really.’

Violet doesn’t have a response to this. ‘I… suppose that’s true.’

‘Forgive me if I’m overstepping, but are you and Flint… seeing each other?’

‘It’s complicated.’

‘I’m all ears. Do you need to talk about it? Professor Vector’s off with dragon pox, so I’ve got a free period now.’

And so, much to her own bafflement, Violet finds herself agreeing to skip Charms and spend the hour with none other than Hermione Granger. In Gryffindor tower. _Gryffindor Tower!_ Sweet Merlin, if only her father could see her now.

She half expects to be pelted with jinxes the moment she climbs through the portrait hole, but all she receives is a few sideways glances from the small handful of students inside as Hermione leads her through to the stairs and up into the girl’s dormitories. It’s almost identical to the room she shares with Pansy and Daphne, but furnished in red and gold, and the spaces above each bed are plastered with posters and photos. In fact, there’s one particular print that catches her eye- a shirtless man grinning boyishly at the camera, his dark hair spiked up in every direction.

‘Merlin, is that Robbie Williams?’

Hermione goes scarlet, a sheepish smile spreading across her face. ‘Might be. How do you know who he is, anyway? Parvati and Lavender don’t have a clue.’

‘Pansy’s a fan. Won’t shut up about how she thinks Cedric Diggory looks like him- wait, shit, maybe don’t tell her I told you that. She’d slaughter me.’

_‘Cedric Diggory?’_

‘She’s always been a little blind. I mean, she’s had a thing going with Draco since first year and she’s still yet to notice his raging narcissism.’

Hermione laughs. ‘Wow, suddenly I see what Fred means. You’re _brutal.’_

‘Fred Weasley?’ 

‘He’s always going on about you. You really get under his skin, you know. No offence.’

‘None taken. I’d put a blast-ended skrewt in that boy’s bed if I could.’ Violet finds that her face is flushing rather absurdly. _Why on Earth did she have to mention his bed?_

‘Anyway, why don’t you fill me in on the Flint situation?’ says Hermione hurriedly. ‘I’m sure he’s lovely but I feel like you should know about the way he’s behaved towards girls in the past-’

‘Lovely? _Lovely?_ You don’t have to sugarcoat it. He’s a bloody predator in the making.’

‘Then why on Earth are you-’

‘We’re sort of… betrothed.’ Violet watches her new friend _(is she a friend yet?)_ _'s_ eyes widen.

‘Betrothed? I mean, I’ve read about arranged marriages in pureblood society before but I never realised that they still happened.’

‘They’re not as common now but still not exactly unusual either. It’s completely ridiculous, we aren’t in the 12th century anymore.’

‘I think it’s totally _archaic_. Women aren’t pieces of meat.’ Hermione’s eyes are lit with the kind of passion she usually reserves for talking Harry Potter out of getting himself killed or educating Ron Weasley on the history of Hogwarts.

‘Try telling Flint that. Or my parents.’

‘Does he treat you well, Violet?’ her tone is suddenly serious.

‘I suppose it could be worse.’

‘That’s not an answer.’

Violet sighs. ‘He’s never hit me or anything, if that’s what you’re asking.’

‘So he didn’t cause those bruises on your arms?’

Ah, the bruises. A ring of purple around both forearms, left by her mother’s grasp. Violet has been meaning to research healing spells to take care of them for days now, but the opportunity never seems to arise for her to slip away from her friends and get some time in the library alone.

‘No. Those are gifts from my mother. It’s nothing though, really.’

‘Come here. I’ve got a pot of bruisewort balm buried somewhere in my trunk. Just a moment…’ Hermione rifles through her case, throwing an assortment of quills and textbooks over her shoulder, before emerging with a glass vial of blue liquid. ‘Here, rub this on the bruises and they should be gone within a few seconds.’ 

Violet takes it from her. ‘Thank you, Hermione. Really. Not just for the balm, but for… all of this.’

‘Anytime. As much as I love Harry and Ron, it’s nice to have another girl to talk to for once. Speaking of which, I still need to help Harry sort out what he’s doing for the task tomorrow. It’s dragons, apparently. You’ll come to watch, won’t you?’

‘Of course. I’ll be going, then. See you round.’

And so Violet leaves, still feeling slightly befuddled at what has just taken place but thinking one thing: that perhaps not _all_ Gryffindors are complete morons, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is just... all over the place. I'm sorry about that, but I promise I'll make it up to all of you soon. I have so many things planned out for this story that I can't wait to share! Lyrics at the beginning are from 'Jennifer's Body' by Hole. XOXO sugarc0ma


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